Something I need
by emaone
Summary: After Catherine tries to poison Mary, Bash decides to take her to Paris to spend the week with his mother to clear her mind. But when Francis returns to court for his mother's death sentence, Mary asks Bash to stay. Francis' return causes unresolved issues between the three to resurface, and with the Queen's death, Francis' hope for a life with Mary grows by the day. [MASH/Frary]
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Bash, could you step outside for a while?"

Those cerulean blue eyes looked up from observing the flickering flames dancing around the burning wood in the fireplace. His hands, one on his hips and the other on the marble trim to support his weight as he leaned forwards, both dropped as he turned around. His eyes darted towards Mary only to find her staring back at him with dark pupils and a face devoid of the warm glow she usually emanated. Her pale porcelain skin and trembling fingers as she gripped her towel closer to herself told him that she was still traumatized by what happened.

_Who wouldn't be_, he thought, pursing his lips in anger as his mind flashed back to the scene when he had found Mary choking in a tub of poison with Catherine lying on the floor beside it. According to the guards, the incident had been reported to his father. So far, there had been no word from the king but he hoped that what happened was strong enough evidence for his father to give Catherine the death sentence she deserved.

"Bash,"

Lola's voice forced him back to reality. Hesitantly, he nodded and, with one look at Mary, left the room.

"I'll tell you when you can see her again," Kenna spoke gently before closing the door behind him.

* * *

><p>"What do you mean you're putting off her death sentence?" Bash barked in disbelief and ran his fingers through his sweaty hair. The combination of the anxiety and anger building up in him was starting to make his body feel warm. Perspiration trickled down his forehead as he watched his father pace the room.<p>

"I mean, dear son, that I will be_ delaying_ her death sentence. I'm not putting it off."

"But why?" Bash interjected before his father could go on. "She tried to kill Mary."

"Yes, but she is also your brother's mother," the king spoke firmly, gritting his teeth together and looking at his son straight in the eye. "I know Catherine tried to kill Mary, but don't you think it's appropriate to at least let your brother know that his mother is about to be killed?"

Bash stood there silently, dropping his gaze to the floor. His father was right. How could he have forgotten that?

"Look, your brother will be in from visiting our relatives first thing tomorrow morning." King Henry placed an arm on his son's shoulder. "I'll tell him what happened, and I am sure he'll understand."

Bash looked up at his dad, who, without the crown on his head, reminded him of the father he had growing up as a kid—the father who used to ride with him by the countryside and teach him how to sword fight while Francis sat in the corner reading. Except the man he stared at right now didn't look as young or as energetic as before. He had wrinkles on his forehead and visible crows feet at the corner of his eyes. Even his stubble, the one Bash remembered feeling excited to touch as a kid whenever his father just shaved, was turning grey.

"Francis will be in court tomorrow morning?"

King Henry nodded, dropping his arm and taking a seat on his bed. "I guess you and your brother could use a little talk."

* * *

><p>"She didn't say a word the whole time we helped her into her clothes," Kenna spoke lowly outside of Mary's room later that night. Lola and Greer nodded in agreement.<p>

"Nostradamus and a few of the servants came after to check on her. He said she's lucky the amount of poison that got into her system wasn't enough to cause critical damage," Lola added, a look of worry crossing her face as she spoke. "She just needs a lot of rest, and she should be fine."

There was a brief moment of silence before Greer broke it. "She wants to see you," she chirped, trying to alleviate the anxiety in the air. He caught the short glimmer in her eyes and knew she was telling the truth. Bash nodded, a part of him feeling relieved to hear that, and a tiny smile formed at the edge of his lips. He reached for the door handle, but Kenna spoke and stopped him.

"Bash,"

His eyes flickered towards her tired, hazel ones.

"I hope the two of you know what you're doing."

"I hope so too," he whispered. Then, with a brief nod, he stepped into Mary's bedroom and closed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>She didn't look up at the sound of the door shutting. Instead, she laid there on one side with her hands clamped together below her cheeks. She was dressed in a white nightgown that blended in with the ivory duvet over her. He noticed that her hair was wet and had been braided loosely and pulled back over her shoulders. The lights in her room were dimmed except for the two bedside table lamps. He stood there for a moment, unsure of whether she was still awake. But then he heard her small, trembling voice.<p>

"Bash?"

"Mary," he muttered, approaching her bed. She looked up at him as he knelt down beside her and noticed the dried tear marks down the corner of her eyes. Using his thumb, he wiped them away gently and watched her lips curve up into a small smile while he did so.

"Mary, I'm—"

"I'm happy you're here," she whispered, pulling his hand away from her face. "And I'm glad it was you who pulled me out of that tub."

He pressed his lips together, reliving the memory in his mind and taking her hand in between both of his. "Mary, I'm sorry," he mumbled, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his forehead on their entangled hands. "Mary, I'm so sorry."

"Bash, don't—what are you talking about?" she asked, trying to push his head back but it wouldn't dodge. "Bash, it wasn't your fault and you know that," she slowly ran her hands through his oily, disheveled hair. "Catherine tried to kill me just like she always had."

"And she almost did," he finally looked up and Mary saw his eyes flooded with pain. "I almost lost you tonight, Mary. I almost couldn't save you tonight." The corners of his eyes dropped as he spoke, and his shoulders were slumped as though the guilt he harbored was too much that it weighed him down.

"But you did, Bash, you did." She forced a smile, wrapping another palm around their entangled hands. "Bash, if there was one person I wished saved me, it was you and you did." She watched his gaze drop to the floor again and pulled their hands closer to herself. "Bash—"

"This would not have happened if you were to marry Francis,"

"Who knows what would have happened?" She interjected, squeezing his hands. "Catherine hates me. It doesn't matter what I do, she would still want me dead." She tried to assure him, but Bash's head still hung low. "Bash, please look at me."

He looked up at her, noticing the color in her cheeks and lips return. Strands of loose dark hair escaped the braid and fell over her flawless face. He forced a tiny smile and watched the smile on her face grow wider. He was baffled by her optimism and her strength and how she managed to appease the anxiety in him even for just a moment.

"Mary, I don't want to lose you."

"And you won't," she promised, kissing his hands and getting a whiff of his smell as he inched closer to her. He smelled of pine-probably the result of being in the woods a lot-with a hint of his natural, familiar scent. "I'm yours," she broke into a smile when she saw his face relax. "I've made the perfect choice."

He looked down, feeling the blood rush up to his cheeks as Mary's lips brushed against his hands again. "Did you mean that?" he grinned, looking back up at her.

"Of course," she whispered, her voice growing softer as she stared into his beady eyes. His pursed lips broke into a grin while he tucked the strands of loose hair behind her ears. After a while, he noticed her eyelids beginning to droop no matter how hard she tried to keep them open.

"You should get some rest," he whispered, leaning forwards to kiss her forehead. When he pulled away, he caught the smile on her face even though she had both eyes closed. The grip on his hand tightened as Mary mumbled something, but he couldn't make it out and watched as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>THANK YOU so much for reading. Please let me know if you like it or not! I haven't written in a long time so please bear with me :) It's been a while since I've been obsessed with a TV show couple. Mash is just too adorable to not write a fanfic about! R&amp;R appreciated, please and thank you! :)<strong>


	2. 1 - Stayed awake and stared at you

**Chapter 1 – Stayed awake and stared at you**

A warm ray of light fell over Mary's eyes the next morning, waking her up. With an eye squinted open, she noticed the bright light just barely shining through the gap between her velvet curtains. She craned her neck to look at the clock on her bedside table. It was five past eight in the morning which was earlier that what she had expected to wake up to. Tugging her duvet closer to her, Mary was on the verge of falling back asleep when she noticed the light from the window settling on a familiar face.

She beamed, hugging her pillow closer to herself as she studied the way the light fell onto only half of his face because he had his head tilted from sleeping. She observed the way the light painted shadows and highlights on his chiseled jaw that even the little scars he had from the mild scratches he must have gotten from the woods were visible. He had his arms crossed and his legs stretched out on a foot rest as he sat on an armchair by her bed. He still had the same outfit on from last night—an off-white peasant shirt with the strings by his neck untied and russet riding pants— except his boots were off and tucked away in a corner. Even though his chestnut brown hair was unkempt and his face, grimy from not being washed all night, Mary loved the way the sun gave his visage a golden glow that made her feel all warm inside as she continued to stare.

His head slipped, causing him to jerk upright and awaken. His weary eyes took in the sight of the room for a while and were about to close when he noticed her awake.

"Mary—"

"You stayed," she smiled, squeezing the pillow beneath her head.

"Of course," it came out barely as a whisper so he cleared his throat and gave her a lethargic smile. "I didn't want to risk anything happening to you without me being there." He watched as color rushed up to her face when she beamed, giving her plump red lips, dark eyes and dark hair life again. "How are you, Mary?"

"I'm better now." She told him truthfully as he looked at her with half-opened eyes. "Now that I've woken up to this." She added, watching one corner of his lips etch up into an awry smile. "I could wake up to this every day."

"You wouldn't want to," he chuckled, unfolding his arms to rub the back of his stiff neck. "I tried really hard all night to sleep beautifully. That doesn't happen often." He joked, dodging a pillow Mary aimed at him.

"What are you doing? I'm giving that to you for comfort," she laughed, watching him bend down to pick it up when he realized it hadn't been a form of a playful attack. "How does that feel now?" she asked watching him tuck the pillow behind his neck and adjusting his body to find a comfortable position.

"Much better," he smiled with his jaw slightly tilted upwards.

"I want to though, Bash," Mary went on, pressing her lips together. "Wake up knowing you'll always be beside me that is."

Warmth rushed through his veins when she said it. His lips cracked into a smile as his mind involuntarily envisioned himself waking up to her as well. He wondered how it felt like to see Mary every morning in her silk night gown with her wavy, dark brown hair hanging loosely over her face instead of being pulled back in small braids. He imagined the feeling of having her dewy skin against his rugged one if their faces were to brush whenever one of them changed sleeping positions. It would be a dream. Never did he imagine his life with Mary in it any further than having her as his sister-in-law. Now, she was nearly his wife.

"You will," he told her, finding the light in her eyes return again after vanishing last night. "Once we're married."

"You're so noble," she beamed, watching as he got off the armchair to draw the curtains open.

"I've killed men before, Mary." He mumbled, opening the windows and looking out at the green meadows that stretched across the French court. "I don't think that justifies my nobility," his eyes darted to the blood woods just beyond the stream that separated it from the meadows. Then he turned around to see her propped on both arms with a more serious look on her face.

"So have I," she muttered, thinking of how she had stabbed Tomás the night she was supposed to escape from the castle. "But we didn't do it on purpose." She continued as Bash returned to his armchair to pull his boots on.

"Let's not talk about this shall we," he looked up at her, letting out a small smile, while he tied the laces of his boots. "It's supposed to be a relaxing day for you. You're supposed to be recovering." He asserted, taking a seat by her on her bed when Mary motioned him to do so.

"Can I just ask one last thing then?" She asked, fixing her night gown while she sat cross-legged. When he nodded, she went on, "What happened, or is going to happen, to Catherine?"

"I had a feeling you were going to ask me that," he spoke lowly, tearing his gaze away from her for a moment. "Truth is I don't know," he went on after a moment and looked back up at her. "I was planning to see my father after this to get the full details on things. He told me last night a death sentence had been agreed upon by court." Then, after contemplating, he added, "Francis is coming back today."

Mary's eyes widened, just as Bash had expected them to. "Francis is coming back to court?"

He nodded, unsure of how to feel. Of course he was happy his younger brother would be coming back. Before things got complicated, they had been best friends with Francis usually looking for him whenever he was overwhelmed by the politics. Then together they would do things like ride their horses by the countryside or make marks in large oak trees with their swords just to blow off steam. And whenever they returned to court, Bash would involuntarily take the blame because they both knew their father's punishment on him would be less dreadful than if it had been on Francis. But now…now things were different.

"When?"

"He's supposed to arrive before noon," he told her, watching as Mary pulled her gaze away from him and got lost in her thoughts. He exhaled, secretly wishing he had told her later. "Okay," he muttered after five minutes of silence. "I'm going to get you some breakfast."

Mary looked back at him, "What?" she giggled. "You're going to what?"

"I want to get you breakfast," he repeated, feeling slightly relieved that Mary seemed less serious and pensive now. "What's wrong with getting you breakfast?"

"Nothing," she beamed, feeling the color rush up to her cheeks when he wouldn't tear his gaze away from her. "Bash stop staring please, you're making me really uncomfortable."

"I thought you were used to people staring at you?" he chuckled, watching as she draped her blanket over her shoulders.

"Yes, when I'm properly dressed with my hair and makeup done." She argued as he continued to chuckle. It must have been very amusing to him since she noticed the smile reached his eyes. "You have dimples," she spoke, noticing the dark dents by his lips that disappeared too quickly.

"Yes, I got them from my mother," he told her, regaining composure. "Mary, you look great. I promise you."

She rolled her eyes as he stood up to leave. "Wait, Bash,"

He turned around and found her lips on his.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing down here?" Kenna wondered, looking at Bash, who was dressed elegantly in a black doublet with regal golden embroidery, sitting by the kitchen stairway on a sack of grains. Not too far away from him stood a servant kneading dough but Bash didn't seem the least bothered by the flour that was slowly turning his black leather boots grey. "Looking rather over-dressed, may I add."<p>

Bash angled his sword to look at the person talking to him through its reflection and saw Kenna walking down the wooden steps looking puzzled. The sound of her slippers made the floorboards creek.

"Is there someone important coming to court today?" She asked while he resumed polishing the blade to his sword.

"If by important you mean my brother, then yes." He was on the verge of standing to offer Kenna the seat when she quickly shook her head as though reading his mind.

"Francis is coming home?"

Bash nodded. "Didn't Mary tell you?"

"I hadn't seen her since last night. When is he arriving?" She wondered but all she received from him was a shrug.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, looking at Kenna who was surprisingly only dressed in a robe over her nightgown. _Perhaps men did rise earlier in court_, he thought as Kenna reached for his sword. He was baffled at first and reluctant to release it until she told him she could use a mirror. "So you came down to the kitchen to use a mirror?" He raised an eyebrow, half chuckling, after she didn't give him an answer.

"What? No. I'm looking for Greer. She's always around here for some reason." She brushed her eyebrows with her little finger and returned the sword. "What are you doing here?"

"Tray is all set, my lord," came one servant carrying a tray of food. Kenna craned her neck to take a look at it.

"Is breakfast not served today in the hall?" she asked the ginger-haired servant as she handed Bash the tray.

"Oh it is, my lady. It's just his highness requested to have it in his room. He also wanted to carry it himself," explained the servant before excusing herself from them.

"You either have a large appetite, Bash, or that's breakfast for two," she grinned slyly, narrowing her eyes at him as he thanked all the servants in the kitchen.

"Alright, Kenna," He pursed his lips, trying to hide a smile. "Now are you going to help me with the door or not?" he motioned the wooden kitchen door after receiving a full minute of a mocking stare from her.

"Of course, _my lord_," she giggled shutting the door behind them.

* * *

><p>"Thank you, Kenna." Bash exhaled when they finally reached Mary's bedroom door. But instead of pushing the door open, she stopped and twirled around to face him.<p>

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course,"

"I didn't like the idea of Mary falling for you at first," she told him truthfully, seeing no change in his facial expression as if he already knew. "Because that meant—"

"My dad would have to marry my mum," Bash finished for her before she could do so.

"Yes," she nodded, biting her lip. "But now I'm glad she has you." She went on, finding a tiny smile at the edge of his lips. "I know you'll take good care of her."

"Thank you," Bash replied in a tone that made him come across to her as more of a friend and less as a king. "I want to."

Suddenly the sound of marching boots against the castle's wooden floor echoed through the hallway, and Bash noticed two bodyguards approaching them. He was about to ask if there was anything going on but then someone pushed through them and headed straight for Mary's bedroom door. Without knocking, he burst through them, leaving the door opened wide enough for both Bash and Kenna to see the interior of Mary's room.

"Mary, are you alright?"

Bash watched as the blonde-haired male dressed in a similar doublet as he had on clasp both his hands on Mary's startled face. However, before she could respond, he already had her in a tight hug.

"Excuse me my Lord," Bash heard the two guards say to him but he was too distracted staring at Mary and his younger brother.

"I guess that's breakfast for three then…" Kenna mumbled, watching as Mary reciprocated Francis' hug.

* * *

><p><strong>THANK YOU EVERYONE SO MUCH for the R&amp;R, follows and favorites. <strong>They mean so much to me! It makes me so happy knowing my story is being read and appreciated :) I hope you enjoyed this chapter too! Feedback appreciated!


	3. 2 - Give me Love I (Vday special)

**2—Give me love I (Valentine's Day Special)**

"Come on, father, is that all you've got?" Bash kneed his father from behind, causing the King to land in a puddle of mud. His sword slipped out of his hands, and Bash picked it up quick enough before his father could reach for it. "You're not giving me a challenge here," he wheezed, crossing their swords merely an inch away from his father's neck.

"Sorry about that, son," King Henry exhaled, looking helpless on the ground as he propped himself on both arms. "Looks like you're getting better."

Bash grinned smugly and was about to drop their swords thinking that his father had, for the first time, raised the white flag when the King knocked him in the knees and made him stumble to the ground.

"Or not," the King gasped, snatching his sword from Bash's hand and securing his son to the ground with a foot on his chest. He held his blade vertically above his son's chest and tossed Bash a sly smile as he lay helpless and unarmed on the ground. "Rule number one on how to fight like a king: never stop until your enemy is _dead_," he emphasized the last word and ran his blade up to Bash's throat. "Nice try though," he finally chuckled, amused by the displeased look on his son's face and offered Bash a hand.

"I just felt generous with giving the elderly chances today," Bash muttered, half expecting his father to hear him and release his hand. He found himself drenched in mud again a second later.

"Ah, I see. Then I guess you'll be alright getting up yourself," the King sniggered, watching tiny drops of mud drip down the corner of his son's face. His beige peasant-shirt no longer had a hint of its original color.

"You and your ego," Bash murmured and rolled his eyes once he was on his two feet.

"Part of being a king, my son," his father said as they made their way to their horses. "Something you probably won't have trouble learning seeing as you have inherited it from me. If not I would have helped you out that puddle of mud."

Bash chuckled, choking on the water he had gulped down. "I see." He glanced at his father who had a look of complacency plastered across his face. Bash poured the remaining water he had in his waterskin over his head to wash the mud out of his hair while the king adjusted the saddle to his horse.

"Okay then. I'll let you win this next thing we're about to do,"

Bash turned to see his father mounted on his camel-colored horse.

"First to the castle wins," the king challenged, kicking the sides of his horse with his boots. "We've got a Valentine's event to attend, and I've got a date to get ready for."

"Which one is it this time?" Bash mocked but his father simply gave him a shrug and rode off with a head start. Bash beamed, mounting his own horse and tightening the reins in his hands. He squinted his eyes as a ray of sunshine broke through the rich canopy of leaves above him. _His father was right_, he thought,_ he was going to win this_. When it came to riding, he was a natural and, so far, the fastest rider in the French court.

* * *

><p>"Happy Valentine's Day, Mary,"<p>

Mary turned around and found Francis standing by her balcony door with a bouquet of roses in his hands.

"I got them in pink because I know you prefer them over red roses," he breathed out, making his way towards her, donning a navy blue doublet with white trousers and black boots. "You once told me that red roses were overrated because they were so easy to find, unlike the pink ones."

Mary looked at the bouquet cautiously, as though unaware of whether she should or shouldn't accept it, but Francis went on as though he had read her mind. "Just take them Mary, in the spirit of Valentine's Day. We never managed to have a proper Valentine together so consider this a gift for old time's sake…" his voice faded as she took the bouquet off his hands.

"They're beautiful, Francis," Mary looked up into his dust grey eyes and held the bouquet closer to her nose. "They smell lovely too. Thank you."

"I had them brought in specially for you from Paris," he told her, following her back into her room. "These are the first roses to bloom after winter. Apparently only twenty bouquets of them are sold for Valentine's this year," he continued, watching as she placed the flowers in an empty vase on her dressing table.

"How do they look?" she asked, turning around to face him and motioning the vase.

"Just as beautiful as you," he caught a small smile by the corner of her lips, but it was one of those forced smiles—the ones a person would normally give you to be polite. "Mary—"

"Francis, I really appreciate all of this, I do—" she interjected, her breathing speeding as he took steps to approach her. "But—"

"I miss you," he exhaled, placing one hand on her right cheek. "Mary, if there was one thing I realized while I was away is how much I cannot live with you." There was a genuine look of hurt in his eyes that made him appear vulnerable in front of her. Mary pressed her lips together, watching his eyebrows droop helplessly as he waited for her to say something. When she didn't, he continued, "Mary, I'm not perfect. I know I've done so many things in the past that have hurt you probably more than anyone else has. But, I love you, Mary, and I'm sorry. I would do anything to protect you—even if it meant risking my own life."

"And I don't want you to," she interjected him, trying to take a step backwards but he held her face tightly in both his hands. She took a deep breath, "Francis, don't you understand? I don't want you to die for me."

"Is that all you think about when you think of us?" he exhaled, looking deep into her brown eyes. "Death? You're so worried that marrying me would mean having me risk my life for you, then what about Bash?" he hissed at the sound of his brother's name. "You don't think he would die for you?"

"I—"

"We all have to die, Mary, one way or the other," he cut her off, watching as she averted her glance away from him. "You tell me my life would be in danger, but that's just the reality of being crowned king, Mary. Every king's life _will_ be in danger as long as he reigns. Bash is no exception."

"But Nostradamus predicted that our marriage will be the death of you," Mary's voice faltered when she noticed Francis' shoulder stiffen at the sound of that name.

"So you'd rather the so-called ambiguity in the future you think you'd have with my brother," his voice was assertive. "I could pay Nostradamus to say the same thing about Bash to you."

"You wouldn't," she snapped, pulling away from his grip. "I believe in what he said, and I'd rather prevent something that I know will happen to protect you." She saw disappointment in his face as he slowly shook his head and parted his lips.

"Are you sure your marriage to my brother is about protecting me anymore?" he gritted his teeth back, locking his eyes on hers. Just then the sound of horses galloping was heard and both Mary and Francis looked over the balcony to see the king and Bash ride in from the woods. She felt Francis observing her cautiously as she kept her gaze locked on Bash and the king in attempt to avoid eye contact with him.

"Because I'm finding hard to believe the both of you were forced into marrying for reasons other than," he trailed when she turned to face him, "love."

"Francis, I'm sorry." Mary spoke up, watching his head drop in genuine sadness. "So much as happened since you've been gone,"

"I noticed that. I don't blame you, I guess," he finally looked back up at her, a thin layer of tears marring those grey eyes. "I didn't fight for you harder, but I promise you I will."

"Francis—"

"I didn't come here to fight with you, Mary," he took a deep breath and pulled out one of the roses from the vase. "I came here to actually ask you to the Valentine's ball tonight," he paused for a moment, watching as Mary's shoulders relaxed. "I think we both know my brother isn't up for it, and I was wondering if we could go together—just for the sake of two people without dates?"

She glanced at him, not knowing what to say.

* * *

><p>"How's Mary?" The king asked once they've reached the meadows just outside the French Court. Instead of bringing their horses into the stables, the king had proposed they spent some time by the stream cleaning up while their horses grazed over the grass. As anticipated, Bash had caught up with his father and arrived at the castle at least five minutes before his father did.<p>

Running his fingers through his soaked and relatively cleaner hair, Bash shrugged and dripped an arm into the stream. "She's fine. A little shaken, but she's okay."

"How's your brother?"

Bash remained silent and rinsed his grimy face with the refreshing cold water from the stream. "I don't know," he mumbled after a while. "He refused to see me when I went to his chamber yesterday."

"Ah I see," the king murmured under his breath and took a seat beside his son by the bank of the stream. He watched as Batch slipped out of his boots and dipped his bare feet into the stream. "We used to do that when you were little."

Bash turned to glance at his father whose eyes told him that his mind was travelling back in time. "Yeah," he smiled. "And Francis used to always get scared Catherine would catch him doing it. Apparently dipping one's toes into the river was a savage-like act," he chuckled, remembering the times Francis used to always glance back to make sure the Queen hadn't been observing him from her bedroom window.

"I guess that was probably one of the reasons why we were closer," the King sighed, his eyes getting lost in space. "Francis was always controlled by Catherine. It was hard to do things with him without him being in constant fear of his mother."

"You know, when we grew up together, I never envied my brother's life. In fact I actually swore I would never be like him—" Bash paused as old memories flooded his mind. "I mean Francis always had a responsibility even since we were young. He was always expected to do things, even things like be on time for dinner," he let out a light chuckle, remembering the when Francis would run downstairs at six o'clock sharp for dinner even if they were in a middle of a game.

"It's ironic that you're about to be what he's been primed to be," the King muttered and saw his son shift his glance to the ground.

"Yes, I guess that's why he's so angry at me," Bash murmured as the look of hatred that had been on his brother's face when he had attempted to talk to him earlier flashed into his mind. "He's so angry at me father. I haven't seen him angrier at me before."

"You did take his crown and his fiancé," his father joked but his chuckles died away when he realized his son didn't seem the slightest amused. "Look, Bash, you know your brother. He'll come around eventually. Just give him time."

Bash sighed as his father pulled his leg out of the water to put his boots back on.

"Speaking of which," the king trailed off, when he noticed a lean figure with dark brunette hair walking out of the castle stables and heading their way. "Mary."

Bash turned and saw Mary heading towards them dressed in a white, lacey dress with long and flowy translucent sleeves. She had a flower crown made of red roses in her dark hair that fell loosely over her shoulders.

"There you are. I've been looking all over for you," there was a hint of enthusiasm in her voice that made him try to suppress a smile. They hadn't talked much since Francis returned home because his brother had always insisted on seeing Mary without company, and Bash had acquiesced to avoid the argument between them from getting any worse. To have her tell him that she had been looking for him made a part of him feel good.

"Mary," the King greeted her, appearing behind his horse. "How have you been?"

"Good," she replied as Bash pulled his boots on. "I was lucky to have been pulled out before a critical amount of poison got into my system."

"Yes, I heard," the King replied, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "I heard Bash saved you. I bet he enjoyed it too," he tossed his son a mischievous look before excusing himself and leading his horse back to the court stable.

Bash stood there, feeling his face turn scarlet as Mary glanced back and forth between him and his father looking puzzled.

"Is it me or did your father just make an inappropriate joke?"

"Don't tell me you're not used it," he cleared his throat, trying to shake off the discomfort that beleaguered them.

"Awkwardly, I'm not," she told him as he pulled his cloak over his shoulders. "How was your morning?" She broached a new topic when she noticed his face turn red.

"It was good," Bash told her, picking his sword up from the ground and slipping it into its holder. "I had an enjoyable morning with my dad."

"I saw the two of you laughing from my balcony," she told him, and saw the corner of Bash's lips edge up into a smile.

"Were you stalking me, your Grace?" he grinned, about to pull his horse by its reins when Mary placed a hand on his forearm.

"I just happened to glance down my balcony, my Lord. I assure you I have better things to do than observe you," she giggled, watching his blue eyes light up.

"Alright then, Mary," he went on, removing her hand from his forearm and holding it in his instead. "What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to ask you something," she began, ushering him to take a seat beside her on the grass.

"Wait," he grabbed one of her arms to stop her from sitting, then took his cloak off and draped it around her. "Wouldn't want your dress to get stained by the mud."

Her eyes flickered up to meet his and they widened as though she was surprised by his gesture. Bash raised an eyebrow, his cerulean blue iris looking almost translucent beneath the bright sunlight, and watched Mary press her lips together as if to suppress a smile before pulling her gaze away from him. Slowly, she wrapped the cloak around herself and tossed him a smile. She caught a whiff of his scent from the fabric when a gust of wind blew passed them and sent her brunette curls over her shoulders.

"What is it that you wanted to ask me?" Bash asked, resting both his arms on his bent knees and listening to the sound of water lapping from the flowing stream.

"I wanted to ask you about the Valentine's ball tonight," she noticed him nod from the side as if he had expected her to ask him that. "Francis told me you won't be up for it?"

"Francis?" Bash raised both eyebrows, surprised.

"Yes."

"I guess it's great to know my brother still remembers parts of me."

"So it's true?" Mary raised an eyebrow as Bash continued to stare ahead across the stream. "So you really weren't planning to go tonight? Why?"

"I don't like Valentine's Day, Mary," he replied after a while, unsurprised when she had on the same expression a child would have if you told him how Santa and the tooth fairy weren't real. "I think it's a silly reason people use to get into court to fraternize with rich men and beautiful women. I also think it's a burden to have to socialize with people when you're supposed to be, if I stand corrected, spending Valentine's with the people you love."

"You will spend time with them at the party though," Mary argued, but he didn't seem the least convinced. "It's just a nice reason to dress up,"

"Who says you can't dress up on any other ordinary day?" he turned to look at her, a little surprised by the look of disappointment on her face. Instead of responding, she pulled her gaze away from him and looked down at his cloak as if the embroidery fascinated her.

"Mary," Bash began after several minutes of silence. "Mary, it's not that I don't like going to all these events—I go to nearly every one held on court—it's just, I don't celebrate Valentine's Day, and I hope you understand that," he placed a finger below her chin to lift it up and turn it so that she faced him. He heard her sigh.

"Francis asked me to the dance," she mumbled. "He knew you weren't going to go."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I had to think about it," she looked back down at the grass as he pulled his finger away. A wave of silence surrounded them for a moment before she heard Bash shift beside her.

"I don't mind if you go with him, if that's what you're trying to elicit from me," he spoke, capturing her attention. "I honestly don't mind if you decide to go to the ball tonight with my brother, Mary."

Mary turned to look at Bash who was staring across the river. After a while, he turned to look at her, his face filled with sincerity.

"You're sure of that?"

He nodded. "What would be the point of me hindering the two of you from going to the dance anyway?"

She bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders.

"It's one night, and it's an event on court," he turned her chin to face him again and felt her inch closer to him. "I'm sure I can trust my brother enough on this one," he breathed out—his voice growing softer and his eyes closing as Mary pressed her forehead against his.

"Have fun," it came out as a whisper, and Mary felt him rub his nose against hers.

* * *

><p><strong>Read on for part II<strong>


	4. 2 - Give me Love II (Vday special)

**2—Give me love II (Valentine's Day Special)**

"Don't tell me you're already done with the party?" Bash raised an eyebrow that night and crossed his arms as he leaned against the wooden door frame to his father's bedroom. It had barely been two hours since the event started, and his father was never one to leave the court events early. He watched as several servants filled up a trunk of clothes and carried it out of the room. "Are you leaving for somewhere?"

"Paris," his father replied, fixing the gold medallion around his neck.

"Paris?" Bash repeated, convinced he must had heard his father wrongly.

"Well, Valentine's Day is all about spending time with the one you love right?" his father spoke while adjusting the crown on his head. Surprised and rather amused by his father's sudden philosophical words, Bash suppressed a smile and grabbed the King's cloak from the stand and handed it to his father.

"I should be back tomorrow," Henry told his son while draping the heavy, velvet cloak with a white fur trim around his shoulders. "Be good," he patted his son on the shoulder and walked out of his bedroom.

"Yes, send my regards to my mother will you," Bash called out, chuckling silently to himself, and swore he heard his father mumble something in return except he couldn't make the words out.

"Bash,"

Bash twirled around at the sound of his name, surprised to see Kenna at his father's bedroom door. She looked beautiful as she stood partially hidden in the hallway shadows in a light pink flowy dress that bared her shoulders. Her chestnut hair was tied to one side and allowed to fall onto her chest. She almost looked perfect until he caught the tears glazed over her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop on your conversation with your father," her voice faltered as she wiped the trickling tears down her cheeks. "I was actually about to see your father thinking things might have gone differently," she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I must look really stupid and pathetic crying to you about being angry at your father and jealous at your mother."

She looked up at him, and Bash noticed how her tears had smudged her makeup and left dark watermarks. He gave her a tiny, apologetic smile.

"Kenna," he began, approaching her slowly. "I'm truly sorry about what happened," he reached for a box of tissues from one of his father's shelves and offered it to her. Willingly, she pulled several out and wiped her eyes. "What do you normally do on Valentine's Day?"

Finding her composure, Kenna took a deep breath. "Back home I would normally get flowers and chocolates from my family and even from people I don't know."

Bash glanced around his father's spacious room. "Okay, tell you what," he grabbed the first vase he saw filled with roses and a wooden box of chocolates from his father's study and handed them to her. "We get too much of these on court, and we hardly eat them."

"So why don't you, if you'd like—" he added, making sure he gave her the option of declining his suggestion so that he came across more as a friend and less as her future king. "—hand some of these out to the kids at the party? I'm sure some of them would be glad to receive a rose and chocolates from a beautiful stranger on Valentine's Day."

He watched her hazel eyes light up even in the shadows of the hallway outside of his father's bedroom.

"Thank you, Bash," she smiled, a final tear trickling down her cheek.

* * *

><p>When Bash returned to his bedroom, he was surprised to find Mary standing outside of his door dressed in a red lacey dress that hugged her lean figure too perfectly. He couldn't help but notice how she shined with the diamonds on her tiara sparkling beneath the warm glow of the dim corridor light. She looked up, the glitter around her eyes sparkling, when she heard him approaching, and he noticed the basket she carried.<p>

"Mary—"

"Your door is locked," she stuttered, interjecting him. Mary felt her cheeks flush when she noticed Bash's eyes wander over her more than usual. _Or perhaps it was just her nervousness that was making her overthink_, she thought.

"They usually are when we have events on court," he muttered, pulling his eyes away from her when he felt that she was growing uncomfortable. "How long have you been waiting here?"

"Not long," she replied as they walked into his bedroom. She heard him close the door behind them.

"How was the party?"

She turned and found him leaning against his bedroom door. The only source of light in the room was the moon light that shone through his open balcony doors and the dim orange hue from the fireplace. Mary watched as the pale purplish moonlight glow settled on his face just like how the sun's rays had when she found him accompanying her the night after she was poisoned. For someone who hadn't planned on going to the ball tonight, Bash certainly did look all dressed up for it as he stood there in a black embroidered doublet that reached his knees.

"I didn't go,"

Bash raised an eyebrow, "what do you mean?"

"I mean, I chose not to go," she clarified, dropping the basket to the ground and approaching him. "I mean, I didn't want to go."

"But, Mary, I thought you wanted to go for the Valentine's Ball?"

Mary noticed a sense of guilt in his voice so she quickly shook her head and placed a finger on her lips. "Bash, listen to me," she began, taking hold of both his warm hands and leading him to the velvet sofa in the center of his room. Hands on his shoulders, she made him sit then scurried to grab the basket.

"I know you don't believe in Valentine's Day, but I do," she told him, opening the basket and pulling out two wine glasses. Bash watched as she placed them on the wooden coffee table in front of him. From two wine glasses, there was suddenly a bottle of red wine, two unlit candles, a box of chocolates, a pint of ice-cream, and scattered flower petals over red napkins.

"And like you said," she went on, fishing for something in the basket. "Valentine's Day is all about spending the day with the person you care for," she pulled out a light pink rose boutonnière. "It's not about the parties or the fraternizing with strangers or—" Mary stopped when she noticed she was rambling and took a deep breath to calm her jitters. "Bash, I thought about it, and Valentine's Day would mean nothing to me if I wasn't spending it with you," she finished and leaned forwards to slip the boutonnière into one of the button holes of his doublet.

Mary was on the verge of pulling away when Bash grabbed one of her arms. His blue eyes bored into hers sending her pulse racing again.

"Mary," he breathed, finding her eyes staring at him in worry as if she was afraid that he would get angry by the surprise she had thrown for him. "Mary, my father and I did not just go riding for fun this morning."

"What do you mean?" she wheezed, feeling panicky all of a sudden when Bash stood up as if what he had to tell her was so important that casually sitting down wasn't enough. "What's wrong?" she trembled, placing both her hands on his chest when he didn't respond.

"Mary," he took both her hands in his and held them close to his heart. "Mary, I wanted to wait…" his voice faded as his grip on her hands tightened against his chest that Mary swore she could feel his heart beat. "I was going to wait for the perfect time."

"I know that whatever I'm about to say would probably not make a difference to our lives," he held back a nervous chuckle when he realized how serious and worried Mary looked. "But I hope that after I say what I have to say, your perception towards me…towards this commitment we've agreed upon—being married and king and queen of tree nations—changes."

"What is it, Bash?" Mary demanded, but he placed a finger on her lips just as she had done to him earlier and fished for something out of his pocket.

"Mary," he began, slowly bending and getting down on one knee.

She gasped.

"Mary, I know we have both agreed to commit to France, Scotland and England as their future King and Queen. I know we have both agreed to commit to my father's request to be married to gain those alliances, but—" Slowly, Bash opened the box to reveal a white gold ring with an oval shaped sapphire gem with tiny diamonds encircling it. She caught the reflection of the burning flame at the fireplace through the many perfectly shaped facets of the jewel.

"Mary Stuart, I want to commit to you too as your family, your friend and your future husband," Bash gulped, when he realized Mary had her face covered with both her palms. He wondered if that was a good or bad thing. "Mary," he said again, this time capturing her attention. When she lowered her hands slightly, he noticed her eyes sparkle—this time not from the glitter that surrounded it.

"Mary, will you marry me?"

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry for the late update! THANK YOU so much for all the R&amp;R, favs and follows :) In the spirit of Valentine's, I decided to write a longer V-day themed chapter. I hope you guys enjoy it! Please let me know what you think! Meant to post this yesterday but RL got into the way. Still, Happy Valentine's day everyone 3<strong>


	5. 3- Where are we going now?

**3—Where are we going now?**

_(Fixed the names, thanks Anna!)_

"Bash, Bash wake up!"

A gentle tap on the shoulder woke Bash up, and his eyes flung open to see the blurry, starry pitched black sky above him. His view was partly obscured by a figure—a head—that came into view. As his vision slowly returned to normal after several blinks, he realized it was Charles, Francis' younger brother.

"Why are you out here?"Charles's small voice echoed through the tranquil silence that surrounded them. Bash blinked again, still confused as he took in his surroundings. He was in the meadows, that's right, and had been stargazing to find tranquility away from the partying atmosphere in court. He had been so caught up in his thoughts that—Bash's heart skipped a beat when he remembered the dream he had. _The ring_, an inner voice hissed in his head as he sat up and searched the ground frantically for a velvet box.

"Are you looking for this?" Henry Jr., Francis' youngest brother, held the box between his tiny fingers, and Bash felt a wave of relief gush through him as he held his hand out for it. "Are you planning to ask Mary to marry you?" Henry wondered before returning the box to Bash.

"Yes," Bash told him, slipping the box into the pocket of his pants. "And I'd very much appreciate it if the both of you kept this a secret before I do."

Charles and Henry, who were both dressed in ordinary peasant shirts and had a large cloak draped around each of them, nodded.

"Why are you outside? Why aren't you at the Valentine's ball with Mary?" Henry asked as both he and his brother took a seat beside Bash. The dewy night grass made his legs feel cold.

"I don't feel like going," Bash told him earnestly as he pulled a leg closer to him and rested his arm on it. "Never mind me, what are the two of you doing out here at this hour? Shouldn't you be in bed by now?" he looked up at the full moon that shone brightly above them. Just a few yards ahead of them, he saw the stream flowing. It glowed in such an ethereal and almost ghostly manner beneath the moonlight.

"We need your help," Charles spoke, pulling something out from his cape. It looked like a piece of parchment. "We want you to take us to see our mother,"

"Please, Bash," Henry interjected before Bash could say anything. "We need an adult to go down to the dungeons and none of the guards would follow us. They say they're prohibited."

"Yes, they are," Bash muttered but Charles cut off him off before he could continue.

"And Francis won't take us either, so all we have is you."

Bash rubbed the back of his neck as he contemplated. He doubted the reason Francis had disagreed was due to his own desire but because it was the order of the king that no one paid the Queen a visit—that included everyone in court, royal or not royal. Bash looked back at both Princes whose expressions were genuinely full of desperation.

"Why do you want to see her tonight?" Bash asked, confused as to why they couldn't wait until their father came home.

"We want to give her this," Charles held the piece of parchment he had taken from his cape out. "It's a Valentine's card. We want to give it to our mother,"

Henry bit his lip as he watched Bash bury his face in both his hands. After a while, he heard him let out a long sigh. Bash knew what he was about to do would get him into a reasonable amount of trouble with his father, who would probably lecture him about being sympathetic but firm. He glanced at both Princes again.

"Alright," he finally mumbled, watching their faces light up. "But just for a short while,"

Henry and Charles both stood up immediately and were already tugging at Bash's sleeves in an attempt to pull him up. When they realized their attempt was to no avail, Henry quickly rushed to pick up Bash's sword from the ground instead while Charles grabbed the velvet cloak Bash had used to cover the grass he had slept on.

"Oh, Bash," Charles muttered all of a sudden as the three of them made their way back to the castle.

Bash looked down at the brunette-haired boy that stood barely pass his hips.

"I'm not looking forward to going to the dungeon either," he began, pulling his red cloak closer to himself when a cool night breeze blew past them. "But I'm still going because I want to spend Valentine's Day with my mother," he pulled his gaze away and looked ahead at the castle, leaving Bash stunned by his words.

* * *

><p>After bringing both boys to the dungeon and paying several guards for their silence, Bash made sure both Charles and Henry were safely tucked into their beds. He still couldn't shake off the vicious look on Catherine's face when she saw him at the door to her dungeon, and how that look had automatically changed into love when she noticed Charles and Henry appearing behind him and running towards her. She had almost looked…motherly, he thought, as he shut the door to the Princes' room. Just as he was on the verge of walking away, there came a small knock from the door and a piece of parchment suddenly slipped out from underneath the wooden door.<p>

Surprised, Bash picked it up. A smile crossed his face when he realized it was a "Thank You" Valentine's note from the Princes. At the bottom of the parchment was a drawing of what Bash figured must be the court's ballroom based on the musical notes that surrounded dancing stick figures. The name "Mary" was written on top of one of the stick figure's head with an arrow pointing to it. At the tail of the arrow was the word "You". He grinned, feeling a flutter in his stomach as he tucked the parchment in his doublet.

Bash could hear the sound of music from the court ballroom echoing through the walls of the castle as he walked down the wooden staircase to the common room. When he reached the balcony that overlooked the dance floor, the edges of his lips curled into a small smile at the sight of Mary twirling in the middle of the room with Lola and Greer by her. Not too far away, he spotted Kenna dancing with a plump, young boy whose eyes were hidden from the wide smile he had plastered on his face. Bash searched the room for Francis and finally spotted his younger brother by the cocktail table with several other men from court.

"Would you like a public announcement on your presence, my Lord?"

Bash turned to see one of the guards standing behind him, In his hand, he held the trumpet that was normally used to announce the arrivals or departures of royals.

"Oh no, that's fine," Bash uttered quickly, unable to picture himself disrupting the ongoing joy that was taking place downstairs just so he could have the spotlight as he walked down the wide staircase. It sounded more selfish than absurd in his mind. The guard nodded and scurried away after being dismissed.

Except for several greetings and head nods, everyone else seemed unaware of Bash's sudden turn up.

"Mary, they're playing the last song before the stroke of midnight in a bit,"

Mary turned and found Francis approaching her dressed in a fiery red doublet. He held out his ivory gloved hands in front of her as his blue eyes bore into hers.

"Could we have another dance?"

"I'm honestly very tired and very parched," Mary told him, wheezing from all the twirling, "I'm going to get a drink." She excused herself and made her way towards an empty round table to fix her dress. She bent down to pick her fallen earring when she heart a short snap and felt a hand on her back.

"Your Grace, I don't mean to sound inappropriate but,"

She stood up instantly at the familiar scent, turning her head to find her eyes meeting Bash's grey ones.

"One of the strings to your corset just snapped," his voice grew softer as he bent down to pick up her earring—the other hand still secured to her back. "You should have asked someone to help pick that up for you."

"Bash, I thought you weren't coming?" Mary's face grew red as she watched him slip her earring into his pockets. The final song was beginning to play and people were starting to fill out the dance floor.

"I wasn't going to. But then I realized I couldn't leave you alone without you getting into trouble," he joked, pressing his lips to suppress his laughter when he noticed her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "I was joking, Mary. I—"

She silenced him by placing a finger on his lips only to have him look at her in bewilderment. The song grew louder and more people got up from their seats to fill the dance floor, leaving them more noticeable without the crowd surrounding them. Grabbing his hand, Mary dragged him behind one of the enormous pillars that was rooted at nearly every corner of the large ballroom. Once they were hidden in the shadows, Mary looked over Bash's shoulders to make sure no one was observing them.

"I'm sorry. If we were out there we would have to dance," she breathed out, responding to the confused look on his face. "You were saying?"

"What I wanted to say was," he went on, unclasping the navy blue cloak that had silver embroidery around its perimeter from his neck and slowly draping it over her to hide the flaw in her corset. He watched her close her eyes for a moment before opening them again as if the cloak fabric comforted her. "I'm sorry for not accepting your invitation to the ball when you asked me to," sincerity filled his cerulean eyes.

"It's okay," she beamed, listening to the music grow louder as the final chorus approached. Bash grabbed both her hands and held it close to his heart.

"You believe in Valentine's Day and you believe in spending it with the person you love," he gulped, watching as her smile broadened. "I came because—I hope I'm one of them…" his voice trailed away as a burst of sound from the musicians shook the room, signifying the song's final verse.

Mary placed a hand behind his head and tore her gaze away from him when she noticed thousands of flower petals falling from the ceiling and showering the guests on the dance floor. There were children picking several up and adults looking up in fascination as more continued to drizzle down.

"Bash," their eyes met. "You're not just one of them," she spoke softly, watching him smile nervously at her as she ran the back of her hand down his cheek. "You're the one," she whispered and tip-toed to plant her lips on his. When she pulled away, she found his eyes smiling down at her.

"Mary, let's go to Paris after everything is over with Catherine," Bash watched her dark brown eyes widen. "We could spend time with my mother and you could clear your head from everything that has happened to you," he trailed away nervously as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "What do you think?"

"I think that's perfect," it came out barely as a whisper before he leaned down to kiss her again and wrapped his arms tightly around her wist, unaware of the blonde-haired figure watching them a few feet away.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my Lord!"

Francis tore his gaze from his brother and Mary and smiled at the random well-dressed lady in front of him who had petals in her hair.

"Thanks, you too," he mumbled and, after she had scurried away, turned back to look at his brother and Mary. Never had he felt so…empty.

* * *

><p>"Wake up!"<p>

Bash jolted awake the next morning at the sudden sensation of ice cold water on his face. He gasped, heart racing, only to find his younger brother by his bedside. He stole a look at the clock. It was barely seven in the morning.

"What is it?" he wheezed, watching as Francis placed the goblet on his bedside table and wiped his hands against his leather riding pants.

"I need to talk to you,"

"Couldn't have waited for a better time?" Bash groaned, his chest still heaving as he slipped out of his drenched peasant shirt and threw it to the ground. "What is it?"

"I need you to delay my mother's death sentence," Francis spoke calmly, unsurprised when by the look of astonishment on his brother's face.

"What? I can't do that."

"Yes you can," he spat, leaning against the wooden pillar of his brother's canopy bed. "You are our father's favorite son. I know you can convince him."

"And what exactly would be my reason?" Bash wiped his face dry with the back of his hand. "Catherine tried to kill Mary. Why would you want her alive any longer?"

"Because, brother," Francis glowered at him. "She's my mother. As much as I do hate her, she's still the only source of family I have in this castle," he gritted his teeth back, and watched his brother sigh. "Please, Bash. You know you owe me, and all I'm asking is for you to be on my side when we meet father together to ask for this."

"Look, I have to go to Calais today at nine," Bash told his younger brother who didn't look the slightest happy when he did. "Father probably won't be back from Paris until nightfall," he was cut off by a long groan from Francis. "But when he's back, I promise you we will talk to him alright?"

"Why is father in Paris?" Francis growled, and when his older brother failed to reply, he snorted. "Right, of course. Wife in dungeon, mistress in bed—why am I still surprised?"

"Don't talk about my mother like that," Bash glared at his younger brother who looked more amused than guilty. "I've given you my word. You just have to be patient."

"Fine," Francis snapped, standing upright again. "Tonight it is then," he was on the verge of turning around to leave when he stopped and looked at his older brother once more. "Sorry,"

"For what?" Bash raised an eyebrow, surprised by his brother's sudden change in mood. "The ice-cold water or the remark about my mother?"

"The fact that you have to be king," Francis mumbled and turned to leave.

* * *

><p>"You sure I'll be safe like this?" Catherine, looked outside of the carriage door at the greenery that surrounded her. She almost felt poor being in the wild stuck in a small carriage that rocked each time they rode over gravel. "If your bastard brother or, worse, your father finds out about this we would both be without our heads tonight. Especially now that you are of no use to your father," her eyes narrowed at her blond-haired son who sat across of her with his hands clamped together in anxiety.<p>

"Mother, relax. No one will find us. Father is at Paris and Bash is in Calais. They both won't be back until nightfall," Francis pursed his lips and let his gaze drop to the ground when he noticed his mother staring at him like a hawk.

"What if we're not there by nightfall and your father and brother find out we're both gone. They'd have guards sent after us," the Queen sighed. "Why did I not think of all of this before agreeing to your idea?"

"We will get you to the border in time. Once you're in Italy, you'll be under the protection of your family and you will be safe." Francis bit his lip as his legs shook nervously.

"What about you?" The Queen raised an eyebrow, groaning as the carriage shook again and made her crown slip to the side. "You will be beheaded for helping me escape."

"I'll figure out how to deal with father. I know Bash wouldn't allow it. I have a feeling."

"You seem so confident," The Queen rolled her eyes, as she watched her son burry his face in his sweaty palms. "After everything your brother has done to you, you still think he has even the slightest bit of love for you?"

Francis bit his thumbs, unsure of how to respond. He was about to—or at least, about to attempt to—when the carriage came to a sudden halt and he heard the horses neigh. He heard a commotion outside.

"What is this now," The Queen groaned, fixing the sleeves to her gown while a guard appeared at their carriage window.

"There's a dead man in front of us. He looks like someone from court."

Francis' eyes shot open as he glanced at his mother who seemed unbothered and willing to resume their journey. He got up and unlocked the carriage door quickly before his mother could object. He heard her yell from inside the carriage but he ignored her and headed to the front.

"His uniform has the court's symbol, my Lord," the guard told him, pointing to the emblem sewn onto the guard's vest. Francis took a step closer to the dead man, trying to recognize him.

"Can't we just ride past this person? Why are the both of you acting like it isn't normal to come across dead people in the woods," Francis heard the Queen muffle behind him but he was too busy studying the man's bloody face.

"Are any of you listening to me?" The Queen exclaimed, and judging by the loudness of her voice, she had clearly left the carriage.

"That's one of Bash's guards," Francis breathed out, certain he had seen that face somewhere. But why would he be…his thoughts trailed away, and he spun around to look at his mother.

"What did you do, mother?"

* * *

><p><strong>Hey everyone! SO sorry for the late update. Been super busy with the few weeks before spring break! (YASSS) Thank you sooooo much for all the reviews, follows and favourites. They mean SO MUCH TO ME :) Super excited that Reign will resume this week again! I hope you enjoy this chapter :) R&amp;R much appreciated.<strong>


	6. 4- Step Away

**4—Step Away**

"What did you do, mother?" Francis repeated, louder this time and took several steps to his mother who seemed unruffled by this temper. The Queen clasped both her hands together and tilted her chin upwards in bravado.

"I might have slipped word about your brother's…trip," she spoke so calmly without a trace of guilt in her tone that it frightened Francis to see his mother look so unbothered—so inhuman—while she dusted the fallen leaves off her shoulders.

"Geoffrey, I want you to continue and take my mother to the border," Francis breathed heavily, locking his gaze on his mother. "Make sure she's safe," he ended firmly and trudged past the Queen to grab his sword from the carriage. He felt her hand grip his shoulders tightly just as he was about to turn around.

"What are you talking about? Where are you going?" she nearly screamed as her son brushed her hand off and headed into the woods. "Francis!"

"I'm sorry," he muttered without turning around to face her, then, slipping his sword into its holder on his belt, sprinted through the trees and into the muddy woods. The sound of his mother's faint screams faded as he got deeper and deeper into the forest.

* * *

><p>The evening air was moist and damp. As Francis ran further into the woods, the light above began fading as tall trees with wide, lush leaves formed a canopy over him. He felt the mild scratches from twigs in his way, and even though he was out of breath, he never stopped running. From a distance, he heard the clang of a metal. <em>Swords<em>, a voice hissed in his head, sending blood rushing through his legs as he doubled on speed. He didn't call out for his brother because he knew that that would simply call for attention upon him and provoke the attackers to finish Bash off quicker.

Francis kept running, unaware of what direction he was heading to. He followed the sound of metal against metal that grew louder by the minute. His feet were burning, his lips were dry and his mind was confused as to why he was about to risk his own life for his brother instead of being in the carriage with his mother. There was a small, incomprehensible feeling inside of him that kept him running. The type of feeling that was similar to a mix of guilt, nostalgia and—

His legs stopped immediately—his boots forming a smeared track in the mud from the abrupt stop—when he heard a yell close by. It wasn't just anyone's scream. He gulped. _It was Bash's._ The sound of his brother's yell seemed to echo everywhere around him now, and Francis wasn't sure if it was due to the sudden burst of anxiety in him or if Bash really was that close by to him. Francis heard footsteps and drew his sword out, holding it out cautiously in front of him as he slowly moved in a circle stealthily.

Then all of a sudden, someone collapsed beside him, face first to the ground, and it didn't take Francis long enough to realize it was his brother. Before he was even able to articulate his brother's name, another man—one dressed in armor with an emblem on his vest that was unrecognizable to Francis—loomed out with a sword. The man lifted his sword, gritted his teeth back, and was on the verge of piercing it through Bash's back when Francis held his blade out to swing the sword out of the man's hand. The man, who looked astonished by the sudden appearance of another person, lost balance and tumbled backwards. Before he was able to get back on his feet to redeem his sword, Francis punctured his blade through the man's chest and felt drops of blood splatter over his face.

Heart pumping wildly in his chest, he didn't spend another minute contemplating and turned to help his brother up.

"Francis?" Bash wheezed—his face bloody and grimy. "What are you—"

"We don't have much time we need to get out of here," Francis cut his brother short but Bash shook his head.

"Father," he breathed out, unable to complete his sentence when they heard the clang of metal once again. Before his brother could say anything further, Bash grabbed Francis' arm and ran towards the din. They emerged from the bushes of tall grass to a muddy and relatively empty part of the forest that was surrounded by towering, wooden trees. There were bodies of bloody men sprawled on the floor and a horse strapped to an empty carriage at one corner.

"No, don't hurt the Medici Prince!" They heard someone shout behind them, but when Francis spun around and studied the woods, he saw no one.

"Bash!" Bash looked up and saw his father calling out to them just a few yards to their right. He looked at Francis, and the both of them hurried towards their father whose doublet had been ripped by the blade of a sword. He was without his crown, and the muddy patches on his boots grew more and more prominent as he approached them. However, all of a sudden the King stopped moving and the sudden change in his facial expression told Bash why. He watched as his father's mouth slowly parted in pain and his eyes glanced at Bash's in tremor before he slowly fell to his knees to expose the armed man behind him.

Bash yelled as his father slowly collapsed to the ground but it seemed that the longer he yelled, the more his voice disappeared. With rage boiling inside of him, he released Francis' grip on him and raced towards one of the dead man sprawled on the ground.

"Bash—"

"Francis, take our father into the carriage, now!" he growled, snatching a crossbow and an arrow from one of the dead guards. He positioned the arrow to align with his eyes and, taking a deep breath and praying for the most luck he could get, fired the arrow. It hit the man straight in the back, and Bash watched as he collapsed onto the ground. He felt his hand shaking as he dropped the crossbow and spun around to see his brother dragging their father into the carriage. Even from the spot he stood, Bash could see Francis' hands turn bloodier every second.

"Wrap this around the wound and apply pressure," Bash heaved, tearing the carriage drapes and tossing them to Francis.

"Let me ride," Francis insisted as his adamant older brother adjusted the saddle to the horse. "Bash, you're wounded."

"Wounded or not, I'm still a better rider than you, brother," he coughed and mounted his horse before his brother could disagree. "Sit tight. This won't be steady," he muttered and whipped the horse.

* * *

><p>It all happened so quickly. One moment Mary had been braiding Lola's hair and the next thing Kenna had come bursting into her room looking pale with the word "Bash" barely escaping her lips. Mary felt fear creep inside her as she ran down the hallway with both Kenna and Lola behind her. The minute they reached the castle entrance, the large wooden doors burst open and in came Bash and Francis with their father's arms draped around each of their shoulders.<p>

"Make way for the King," the guard shouted, pushing people away as several men rushed to take hold of the King who looked unconscious and was drenched in blood. Mary choked when she saw the drops of blood staining the castle floor. Chaos filled the castle as maids rushed out of the kitchens to witness the commotion. People began crowding the entrance, pushing her backwards that she was forced to crane her neck for a view. Mary heard gasps in the air when the King slipped out from one of the guard's hands and dropped onto the floor.

"Make way!" the same guard yelled again, backing people off as two more men came to lift the King by his legs to be carried away.

"Bash!" Mary shouted, trying to find her way through the wall of people in front of her. "Bash!" she cried again, shoving her way through anxious people until she found fresh air. "Bash!"

He spun around at the sound of her voice and caught her in his arms just in time before she nearly slipped after having her dressed stepped on. Mary gripped his arms tightly as she lifted herself back up on both feet and found her face buried in his chest within seconds. He smelled of blood, and it didn't take her a minute to realize that her dress was beginning to turn red from the blood on his sleeve.

"You're bleeding," she trembled, taking a step back and noticing the open wound on his right arm. "Bash, what happened?" She watched his face grow paler and paler as he covered the wound with his hands. "Bash," she repeated watching as his eyes slowly got lost in space. His body wavered for a moment so she held him steadily by his arms. "Bash," she mumbled slowly but his eyes were closing and before she could say anything else, he had collapsed onto her. If it hadn't been for Kenna and Lola's strong grip on her shoulders, she would have toppled backwards from his weight.

"I'm sorry Your Grace," one of the guards spoke too quickly as he and several other men carried Bash away. "But we need to take His Highness with us." Speechless, Mary watched as several maids rushed to wipe the blood stains on the floor while Bash and the King got carried away.

Francis watched as Mary searched the crowd frantically as if looking for someone. He looked at his brother's dark red blood stains on her white lacey dress, and a wave of guilt overtook him. From the corner of his eye he sensed the guard he had paid off to keep his silence about Francis' escape with the Queen observing him as if he knew that the reason behind his brother's and the King's attack was related to him. Taking a deep breath, he found his composure and looked up only to meet Mary's eyes from a distance.

He saw the look of hurt in them before she pulled her gaze away and left with her ladies. Francis gulp, feeling guilt rush through him all over again.

"I'm sorry, Mary," he whispered and followed after his brother and father.

* * *

><p>"How is he?" Mary spoke softly that night as she tiptoed into the infirmary and saw Nostradamus holding a piece of soaked cloth over Bash's wrapped arm. Bash lay perfectly still dressed in a white peasant shirt that bared part of his bandaged chest. Mary saw drops of sweat trickled down his sideburns and nose. The sound of his deep breathing broke the tranquility of the room as his chest moved up and down steadily.<p>

"His wound isn't as deep as the King's. He was simply exhausted from riding back and lost a lot of blood," Nostradamus told her and got up to offer Mary a seat. "He will be okay, your Grace."

"What about the King?" Mary asked, observing the bloody patch on Bash's arm.

"I've fixed his wound. But it was a very deep one so I am not sure," he replied then held the cloth he had been holding to Mary. "This is his poultice. It would be helpful if you could hold this on his arm," he told her before excusing himself to give Mary some time alone with Bash.

When he was out of sight, Mary turned back to look at Bash and pressed the wet cloth against his arm. He didn't budge even when she placed a hand on his face.

"Bash," she whispered, a glimmer of hope appearing in her when she could have sworn she saw his lips part. When she received no response after her second attempt, Mary squeezed her eyes shut and found it glazed with tears when she reopened them. She sucked her tears back in as she sat there and watched his ashen face. His normally spiky brunette hair was damp in sweat and stuck to his face making him look several years younger. She ran a piece of dry cloth over his countenance to wipe his sweat away and felt a tear trickle down to her chin.

"Bash," she whispered once again, hoping he would respond. "Please wake up," her voice trailed off before she buried her head into his chest and allowed her tears to soak his damp shirt. She lay there listening to his breathing and feeling his chest rise and fall for at least five minutes before she heard footsteps and sat upwards immediately to find Francis at the foot of the door. He cleared her throat while she quickly wiped her eyes and sat upright.

"How's my brother," his voice was low, and he sounded genuinely worried.

"Nostradamus said he would be alright," Mary heard her own voice falter as she adjusted her cloak so that it covered her nightgown. "I just wished he were awake," she whispered, seeing him approach her from the corner of her eye. "Have you seen Henry?"

"Yes," Francis, who stood opposite of her on Bash's other side, muttered. "I wished I could tell you my father would be okay, but I can't," his voice faded towards the end, and Mary watched him kneel so that his eye leveled with his brother's.

"I just don't get it," she mumbled, and his eyes looked up to meet hers. "Why would Bash and Henry be together when they were supposed to be at two different places? And—" she paused with her eyes locked on him. The look on her face made Francis gulp. "—how were you so conveniently in the woods when the attack happened?"

"I—" Francis began, but then the sound of the door opening behind them cut him off.

Nostradamus and several guards walked in. "Your Grace, you have been requested to return to your room. It's after midnight and no woman is allowed in the infirmary," he spoke with a look of sympathy in his eyes as if he knew just how much Mary didn't want to leave.

"Good night, Francis," she whispered, and, after hesitating, left the infirmary and had the guards escort her back to her room.

When Mary was out of sight, Francis dismissed Nostradamus for some privacy with his brother, and he reluctantly left with the guards, leaving both brothers alone. At the sound of the door shutting, Francis turned back to face his older brother.

"You're quite the actor in front of, Mary," he muttered, taking a seat beside his brother whose eyes slowly opened to face him.

"So are you," Bash muttered, gritting his teeth back when his body ached after he attempted to pull himself upright. "I'm surprised you almost told her."

"Told her what," Francis uttered too quickly, cursing himself for not trying to conceal his anxiety harder.

"Please," Bash spat, narrowing his eyes at his younger brother who failed to hide his nerves. No matter how hard Francis tried, it didn't take good vision to notice his legs shaking. "The attack in the woods wasn't coincidental. I recognized the emblem on the men's armor. It's the Medici logo." Francis opened his mouth to say something but Bash went on, "How big of a coincidence it is that the Queen was reported missing today as well. She had escaped from her dungeon, supposedly."

Francis gulped at the sinister tone in his brother's voice and pulled his gaze away from Bash's piercing eyes after his older brother refused to look elsewhere. Francis could hear his heart beating wildly in his chest and the ominous atmosphere that beleaguered them as he sat there clearly cornered by his older brother wasn't doing much to help appease it. Francis bit one of his thumbs—a habit he found hard to break when he was anxious—and finally looked back at Bash whose eyes ignited with anger. _If looks could kill_, Francis thought, pressing his lips together. He'd be worse than dead if there was such thing.

"Francis, what did you do?" Bash growled and grimaced when he felt a throb in his wounded arm.

"I helped my mother escape," Francis blurted out only to have his brother glare at him in not just anger, but disappointment as well. "I thought that with you and father gone I could get her to the Italian border in time and she would be safe with her family. I knew nothing about the attack I swear."

"Well of course she didn't tell you," Bash snapped.

"What were you doing in the woods at sunset then?" Francis argued. "You told me that you and father won't be back until nightfall."

"I cancelled my trip to Calais, brother," Bash exclaimed, feeling the pain in his arm multiply as the anxiety and rage increased inside him. "I rode to Paris instead to get father so we could both be back early and have that discussion we agreed upon." When his younger brother failed to respond, Bash went on, "I gave you my word, why didn't you just listen?" his voice grew louder this time, and he watched his younger brother kick the stool he had been sitting on backwards and stood up.

"I didn't trust you okay," Francis yelled back and ran his fingers through his dirty blond hair. He felt the grease on his fingers after doing so.

"Why not?" Bash shouted, feeling his arm throb when he did. "When have I ever broken my word with you?"

"Yes you have," Francis exclaimed, feeling his vision get blurred by the thin layer of tears that had formed in his eyes. "You said you wouldn't take Mary from me!" he yelled and shut his eyes tightly to conceal his tears.

"I never said that," Bash muttered, slowly this time when he saw the look of genuine hurt in his younger brother's face.

"Yes you did," Francis exclaimed, his voice faltering but he quickly regained his composure and roughly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. "You told me you would never let anyone get in between our happiness," he stared at his older brother who looked helpless as he clasped his wound and laid in bed. "I guess I'm sorry I misunderstood that you meant anyone but yourself when you told me that." Francis glared at his older brother and felt the tension between them rising by the minute. Suddenly, the door behind them swung open but neither brother tore their gazes from one another.

"Everything aright, my Lords?" It was Nostradamus.

"Yes," Francis muttered, his eyes still locked on Bash's. "Yes, we're done here."

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much everyone for the R&amp;R, favs and follows! Makes me so happy to wake up knowing people read this :) I hope you enjoy this chapter! I'd appreciate it if you guys left me reviews so that I can improve my writing as well! THANK YOU AGAIN! <strong>


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